A Battle between Friends
by Tri Lorian
Summary: Lancelot threatens Arthur in a hallucinative state after he is struck by a poisonous Woad arrow. {Complete}


**This story is my 25th story in the KA fandom and since that would not have happened without the kingarthurfanfiction Yahoo group, I'm dedicating this story to our lovely listmom Ashley, Gissey (who came up with the "To Fight or Not To Fight" challenge to which this is a response), and our (currently) 445 other members!**

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Arthur sauntered through the village, stretching his legs, thinking back to the occurrences of the last days.

_Two days ago Arthur and his knights had been attacked by a group of Woads while returning to the fortress at Hadrian's Wall. The group had been relatively small but they had been supported by a pair of excellent archers, who had been complicating the battle for the knights from a distance._

_Arthur had dodged several arrows already when he had seen how Lancelot had caught an arrow in his shoulder. The Sarmatian knight had tried to avoid the arrow, side stepping, but he had been too late. Arthur had watched as Lancelot had yelped in surprise and in pain when the arrow penetrated his shoulder._

_Lancelot had gripped the shaft of the arrow and pulled it out easily as it had not gone in too deep. His face had been distorted in agony for a few moments, but the look of pain had quickly been replaced by a reassuring smirk as he had noticed Arthur watching him._

_Lancelot had fought on without too much trouble. He had felt the trickle of blood crawling over his skin beneath his leather armour and shirt, but he had known that the wound was minor and would not even require stitches. He had favoured his uninjured arm slightly while wielding his twin swords, but Arthur had only noticed that because he had known what to look for._

_After the battle, Dagonet had bandaged Lancelot's shoulder and declared that he would live._

_Tristan had found them a suitable place to spend the night and the knights had set up their camp and a fire had been built. Food and stories, wine and laughter had been shared amongst the close group of friends – not commander and knights at moments like that – before they had all – but one, always - laid down and gone to sleep._

_The night had been quiet. Arthur had taken the first watch himself, not only to make sure that the camp was not invaded unknowingly but also to make sure that his injured second in command – and closest friend – was alright. Arthur had checked on him several times but Lancelot had seemed to be sleeping quietly. When he had awoken on Arthur's second check up – because the dark knight slept with one ear and one eye open at all times as they all did – the only strategy to survive this kind of life - he had quickly succumbed to sleep once again when Arthur had told him so._

_But the next morning Arthur had been woken up by the sounds of retching and he had found Lancelot throwing up between the trees, close to the horses. He had waited until Lancelot was done before he had let him known that he was there. When the dark knight had turned around at Arthur's voice, a shock had gone through the Roman commander. Lancelot's eyes had been dull and glassy, his pallor greenish sick, his brow covered with beads of sweat. He hadn't denied that he was feeling very badly when Arthur had asked him such._

_Arthur had helped Lancelot back to the fire, the younger man almost stumbling over his own feet. Dagonet had immediately rushed forwards when he had seen his commander supporting his obviously ill second in command and together they had helped him to sit down next to the fire, although Lancelot had soon laid back down and curled up on himself miserably._

_Dagonet had awoken Tristan, and soon the other knights had sensed that something was wrong in their camp and risen as well. When Tristan had taken a look at Lancelot and the arrow wound, a worried frown – an unusual sight for the scout – had appeared on his forehead. "He's running a slight fever although the wound doesn't look infected," the scout had explained. "But the entire shoulder looks like it is bruised heavily…" Tristan had paused for a moment. "I don't think the bruising could be caused by the impact of the arrow. I think the arrow was poisoned."_

_A shock had gone through all of the knights, knowing that there would not be a cure for poison – Lancelot would either recover, or not. Even Flavius, the grey haired old Roman healer back at the wall would not be able to help him._

_Together they had decided to travel back to the wall. Lancelot had agreed as well and he had said that he would be able to make the one-day journey. But he hadn't known then that by the afternoon he would be feeling even worse. Not long after midday Arthur had realized that Lancelot could not go on, that he would not be able to make it back to the wall without rest. The dark knight had been sitting on his horse almost doubled over in an attempt to ease the pain in his stomach. Twice already had he pulled his black stallion to a halt, jumped off and disappeared into the bushes to litter the floor with more of his stomach contents. Both times he had been unable to get back into the saddle without Arthur's help._

_After conversing with Tristan, Arthur had commanded his knights to change directions and they had set off towards a small village which lay nearby. The villagers had welcomed them, recognizing Arthur and his knights since four months earlier the Roman and the Sarmatians had helped defend the village against a band of thieves and robbers that had been disturbing the area for a long time. There had been many casualties within the village, leaving many houses empty. The village elder had showed Arthur and his knights to one of the empty houses and had told Arthur that they would be welcome to stay as long as would be required. Arthur had not had to explain that Lancelot had fallen ill as it was obvious to whomever cast a glance at the dark knight._

_Lancelot had nearly fallen off his horse before his fellow knights had lead the black stallion to the empty house. Gawain had been just in time to keep him in the saddle when he had started to sway on top of his horse. Arthur and Dagonet had lowered him down gently and Arthur had carried him inside – without any protests from Lancelot – a rare occasion._

Lancelot was in bed now, fast although fitfully asleep. Arthur knew the other knights were keeping an eye on him, which gave him an opportunity to survey the village somewhat.

Suddenly the Roman heard his name being called out, and he saw Galahad running towards him.

"Arthur! You have to come! It's Lancelot!" Galahad explained once he had caught up with his commander.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked anxiously, worriedly.

Galahad shook his head and ran back in the direction he had just come from. Arthur followed closely, fear in his heart and mind.

The fear was replaced by horror as he saw Lancelot outside of the house, wielding his twin swords wildly. The other knights stood to the side, trying to talk with him, reason with him, but the curly haired man ignored all of them, except when one of them stepped forwards, because then he would immediately swing his swords in their direction.

As soon as Lancelot saw Arthur running towards him, he yelled something in his native tongue and sprinted forwards.

Arthur had no choice but to draw Excalibur and deflect the blows of the double blades to keep himself from getting hurt. "Lancelot!" The Roman tried to get through to his second in command but Lancelot did not respond.

The knights around them drew their weapons as well. Lancelot turned towards Tristan who was closest to him.

Tristan raised his sword in response, ready to defend himself against his fellow knight.

"Knights!" Arthur called out, warning his knights to stay back. His scream also served to get Lancelot's attention back on him.

With the same intensity and fury that Lancelot would exhibit in battles with their enemies, he thrust his right sword towards Arthur, following through with his left one seconds later, a move that would surprise all of his opponents.

Arthur was ready to first block the right sword and then deflect the other one. "Lancelot! What is going on!" he tried to talk with his best friend once more.

Lancelot did not respond to any of Arthur's questions. He continued to attack Arthur wordlessly, while Arthur continued to deflect the blows and slashes of the two blades whirling in the Sarmatian's hands.

Arthur stepped to his side and held Excalibur in front of him while Lancelot brought his left sword down on it forcefully, nearly disarming the Roman. Immediately Arthur stepped back forwards again to block the slash of Lancelot's other blade as well.

Arthur took great care in handling and positioning Excalibur. The large sword could cut through bones and Lancelot was only wearing a light shirt and leather pants and no armour. He did not want to injure Lancelot, but the other man was as skillful with his swords as he was with his words, and the Sarmatian knight made Arthur work hard at just defending himself. They had partnered often in sparring fights and never had Arthur been able to get the upper hand in an one on one fight with his second in command.

Arthur winced in pain as he felt the skin on his right hand and arm being cut by one of Lancelot's swords. The blade in the Sarmatian's left hand had managed to get through Excalibur's defense as Arthur had tried to block Lancelot's right sword. Blood was running down his arm and coating his hand and Excalibur's hilt.

The Roman commander looked up at Lancelot, noting his dark eyes that were bright and clear and glistening as with a fever.

Suddenly Lancelot turned around fast, surprising Arthur when he thrust his left blade towards his abdomen. When Arthur raised Excalibur to deflect the blade, he was only just in time to prevent himself from becoming speared on Lancelot's sword. He jumped backwards, and felt how the air against his skin at his throat was moved by the speed and force which with the Sarmatian's right sword sliced past his throat, missing him by a hair's breadth.

Arthur was breathing hard from the exertion, but above the sound of his own inhalations he could hear how Lancelot had started to pant with fatigue, the fever and the poison draining his strength.

Where Lancelot was a master with his swords, Arthur was highly skilled in battle tactics. He never had expected to need them to keep his second in command, his brother in all but blood at a distance though. He circled around Lancelot, tiring him out even further, knowing that his endurance would be the key to "win" this battle.

Arthur saw how Lancelot lowered his swords just a bit. Had it been a Saxon, a Woad or any other enemy in front of him, he would have finished them off. Instead he pulled back a little, giving Lancelot the opportunity to recover and attack once more. Excalibur cleaved through the air, thrusting, cutting, slashing, but never with the intent to hurt the man fighting him.

Occasionally, Lancelot would get backed into one of the other knights, but all they did as well was to deflect his blows until Arthur would tear the dark knight's attention back to him.

The Roman was surprised by how long the pale and ill man in front of him was able to hold on. He blocked Lancelot's next strike and for the first time he saw how the Sarmatian stumbled, sinking down on one knee. Arthur watched and waited, ready for anything.

Lancelot jumped back up on his feet and ran forwards, both his swords swirling dangerously.

Arthur stepped aside to avoid the double blades and raised Excalibur. Lancelot's exhausted body was not fast enough to turn around when his commander stepped aside. With perfect precision, the flat side of Excalibur hit Lancelot against the side of his head.

With a strangled gasp Lancelot's eyes closed and he collapsed face forwards to the ground.

Arthur threw Excalibur to the side and knelt down next to his unconscious knight, his heart heavy with concern. "Dagonet, help me get him back in bed," he ordered while cradling Lancelot to his chest.

Gently Arthur placed Lancelot down on the bed again. He sat back on his heels, exhaling deeply. "What happened?"

"We're not sure," Gawain answered who had walked behind Arthur and Dagonet, as had the other knights. "He came rushing out of the room in which he had been sleeping all of a sudden, his swords already in his hands. He ran outside without a word. We thought he had seen or heard something, someone, so we went after him, and that's when he turned on us. He didn't respond to anything we were saying." The blond knight looked thoughtfully for a moment. "Did you see his eyes? They were fever bright, but it was like he wasn't seeing any of us. Only when you appeared, he showed some sort of recognition…"

"He was hallucinating," Tristan stated in a soft voice.

Arthur nodded knowingly.

"It can't be from the fever, it's not that high. It must be the poison," the scout contemplated.

"What can we do?" Arthur asked, concern thick in his voice.

Tristan shook his head. "Nothing." He looked at Arthur and his gaze locked with his commander's. "We should tie him up."

Silence filled the room as Arthur looked at his scout sharply. "What!"

"If the hallucinations get a grip on him again, there's no way to tell what he'll do," Tristan explained reasonably. "I want to keep him from harming himself. If he had run in to anyone else but us while swinging his swords, this could have ended very different."

Arthur closed his eyes for just a second, but nodded in agreement when he opened them once again. "Do it."

–– 8 ––

Gawain entered the room where Lancelot was sleeping quietly as not to disturb the knight. With a smile on his face he noted that Lancelot was not the only one in the room asleep. His gaze fell on Arthur who was sitting in a chair next to the bed, his head on his chest, obviously dozing.

The blond knight gently placed a hand on his commander's shoulder. Arthur woke up instantly and looked up in surprise at Gawain.

Gawain nodded to the door to indicate to Arthur to follow him out of the room.

Arthur understood what Gawain meant. With a quick glance at the sleeping knight in the bed, he stood up and followed the blond Sarmatian out the door. "What's going on?" he asked.

"The village elder wants to speak with you," Gawain explained.

"Where?" Arthur asked, looking around.

"Outside," Gawain pointed. "I thought it best not to let him in, in case Lancelot wakes up."

Arthur nodded his thanks. "Can you stay with him while I talk with the village elder?"

"Of course." Gawain quietly slipped into the room where Lancelot was sleeping, while Arthur stepped outside into the warm sun.

The village elder turned around at hearing the heavy footsteps coming towards him. He looked shyly at Arthur as the tall Roman came standing in front of him.

"You wanted to talk with me?" Arthur asked, uncertain of what to expect.

"Yes," the village elder replied hesitantly. "Yes!" he repeated sounding more determined, pausing a moment or two to collect his thoughts. "We have held a meeting this morning and it was decided that we should ask you to leave our village as soon as possible."

Arthur blinked in surprise. "Why?"

The elderly man in front of him looked at his boots as though they could provide the answer. "The women and children were scared by the fighting that occurred last evening!" he finally said in a fierce tone.

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment to clear his thoughts. He knew that explaining what had truly happened last night would not help the situation, but at the same time he didn't know if Lancelot was in any condition to continue their journey back to the wall. "We will leave before midday," he answered, hoping and praying to his God that his best friend would be well enough to make it to the fortress.

The village elder couldn't suppress his relief at hearing the Roman's answer. "Thank you!" he said while he almost ran off.

Arthur went back inside the house and into Lancelot's room once more. Gawain looked at him questioningly. "They want us to leave."

"What?" Gawain looked stunned from Arthur to Lancelot. "What about Lancelot? He's not well enough to travel!"

"We have to hope that he is well enough to travel once he wakes up," Arthur replied. "I don't like it at all either, Gawain," he added softly. "Will you warn the others and get the horses ready to leave?"

Gawain nodded quietly and left the room.

–– 8 ––

When Lancelot finally woke up, the sun was already bright and high in the sky. He looked around him at the unfamiliar surroundings, not remembering how he had gotten there. With surprise, he realized that his hands were bound to the bed.

"Arthur!" he said urgently, confused, his gaze resting on the Roman who was sitting at a small table.

Arthur's head snapped up immediately at Lancelot's voice. "You're awake!" Swiftly he moved to sit on the bed. "How are you feeling?" With relief he saw that the strange brightness in Lancelot's eyes had disappeared even though they were dulled by fatigue.

Lancelot ignored his question. "Why am I tied up?" His voice clearly conveyed his annoyance and bewilderment.

Arthur hesitated before answering, knowing that Lancelot would want to know the truth, but uncertain if now would be the right time. "The arrow that hit you in your shoulder two days ago... It was poisoned."

Lancelot looked at Arthur in surprise. "Poisoned? Is that why I've been feeling so horribly?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes."

"There's more, isn't there!" The dark Sarmatian struggled against the ropes. "Why am I tied up!"

"You were hallucinating last evening…"

Lancelot instantly lay still, staring at Arthur. "What happened?" he asked, uncertain whether or not he wanted to know the answer.

"It's not important," Arthur tried.

"It was important enough to tie me up!" Lancelot replied sharply. "Are you ever going to untie me again!" he asked, pulling at his ropes once more for emphasis.

"Of course! Sorry…" Arthur grabbed the knife that hung at his side and cut through the ropes.

Lancelot struggled to sit up, pushing himself upright. He massaged his wrists carefully. "Are you going to tell me now what happened?"

Arthur sighed in defeat. "You got violent. We had to restrain you to make sure you didn't hurt anyone. Or yourself." The Roman continued before Lancelot could respond. "How are you feeling? I hate to ask this of you, but the villagers have asked us to leave…"

The dark haired knight could hear the reluctance in Arthur's voice. "Better than yesterday. I think I can ride."

"No, you're riding with me. No arguments, please, Lancelot!"

Lancelot let himself fall back on the bed, not able to muster up the energy to fight with his commander and best friend.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot had fallen asleep again not long after they set off on their travel back to the fortress. Arthur held his arm securely wrapped around the Sarmatian's chest to keep him in the saddle. Suddenly Arthur felt Lancelot's body stiffen against his.

Without signaling to his other knights, he pulled his stallion to a halt and quickly jumped off his mount while pulling Lancelot with him. He laid the pale knight down on the ground, looking him over with hawk's eyes.

Tristan soon joined them, kneeling down next to Lancelot as well. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure," Arthur answered insecurely. He placed his hand on the dark knight's face, tapping his cheek lightly. "Lancelot? Wake up!"

At first it didn't seem to work, and Lancelot slept on, but suddenly they saw his eyelids starting to flutter. Slowly the Sarmatian opened his eyes. Arthur immediately recognized the unfocused glassy look in the brown eyes.

The Roman placed his hands on Lancelot's shoulders and almost immediately the other man started to fight him. Again Arthur was surprised by the strength of the ill knight. Knowing he wouldn't be able to keep him down like this for long, he pulled Lancelot up into a sitting position by his shirt. Arthur wrapped his arms around Lancelot, trapping his arms underneath and restraining him with all his bodily strength.

The other knights looked on horrified as Lancelot tried to fight himself out of Arthur's arms.

As suddenly as he had started fighting, the dark Sarmatian stopped and went limp. Arthur held on to Lancelot tightly and felt how the body against his started trembling uncontrollably.

Tristan knelt down in front of them. "He's waking up again," he warned Arthur.

Lancelot woke up slowly, his eyes opening and closing several times before he was able to keep them open. Surprised he looked up at Arthur who was still holding on to him.

"What happened? Did I fall off my horse?" he asked, his voice trembling with his body.

Arthur and Tristan exchanged knowing, worried glances. Lancelot didn't seem to remember what had happened only minutes before. This time Arthur decided not to inform him. "No, you didn' t fall off your horse. You were riding with me, and I noticed how restless you were becoming, so I stopped and laid you down. How are you feeling?" he asked concerned.

"Tired," the Sarmatian answered, stifling a yawn.

"Do you think you can stand?" Arthur asked cautiously, not wanting to push his sick friend, but wanting to get him home as soon as possible nonetheless. He felt a nearly imperceivable nod against his chest.

"Okay, here we go." Arthur stood up slowly, pulling Lancelot with him. The dark knight stood on shaky legs, but Arthur made certain to keep him on his feet. "Dagonet, help me get him on my horse."

As soon as Lancelot was seated in front of him, Arthur quickly kicked his horse forwards, the other knights following. It didn't take long before the curly haired knight was asleep once more.

The rest of their journey back to the wall went without any incidents.

–– 8 ––

Lancelot immediately realized that he was lying in his own bed when he woke up, the familiar blankets, smells and objects surrounding him. He had no recollection of how he had gotten there, but he didn't feel like getting out of bed and asking for the answers. Instead he let himself drift in and out of sleep, not tired enough to go back to sleep, but too tired to get up. He was about to doze off again when he heard the door to his room opening.

"Ah, sleeping beauty finally woke up!" Arthur came in the room with a smile on his face at seeing his best friend finally awake. "How do you feel?" he asked while sitting down on the bed.

"Much better."

"You look much better as well," Arthur confirmed.

"When did we get back to the fortress?" Lancelot asked curiously.

"Two days ago."

Lancelot's eyes opened wide at Arthur's answer. "I've been asleep that long?"

Arthur nodded. "You needed it. But I'm glad to see you awake again!"

Lancelot didn't respond at first. Arthur followed his gaze which was directed at Arthur's bandaged hand. "What happened?" the Sarmatian asked softly, sensing that Arthur's injury had something to do with him.

Arthur was reluctant to tell him. "Just a scratch. Flavius bandaged it to keep it from becoming infected."

Lancelot's dark eyes pierced into Arthur's green eyes. "I know you, Artorius Castus, and you're not telling me something!"

Arthur sighed deeply. "Do you remember that I told you that you had been hallucinating?"

Lancelot nodded. "You said I got violent… How?" he asked quietly.

Arthur looked straight at the Sarmatian when he answered. "You drew your swords, and challenged me to a battle," he explained simply.

Lancelot listened horrified. He swallowed heavily. "I didn't… Did I?" He brought his hands up to his head, covering his face. "Sweet Goddess!" he groaned.

"Don't worry about it. I got you worse," Arthur said reassuringly, a small grin on his face.

Lancelot moved his hand to the side of his head where a large bruise was covering his temple. He grimaced. "That was you? Remind me not to fight you again."

"I will!" Arthur chuckled. He stood up. "Get some rest. You still need it. I'll bring you some food later."

Their hands briefly touched, but it was enough to bring across all feelings fleeting in them. Arthur's relief at seeing his closest friend better again, Lancelot's gratitude for Arthur's unconditional love and friendship.


End file.
